


It's been a long day

by TheGirlInTheB



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Back rubs, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pancakes, clint takes care of phil, hot showers, long work days, non-verbal communication, stuff I wrote with friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlInTheB/pseuds/TheGirlInTheB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fury makes a call and Clint gets to take Phil home and take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's been a long day

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for some friends on twitter and figured I'd toss it up here for fun.

Phil’s a good at taking care of people. It’s a part of his job as a handler for SHIELD; weekly meetings and check-ins with the agents under his care, making sure they’re making appointments, reviewing their missions and ensuring they’re matched with compatible jobs, signing off on vacations or rest times –fielding any disputes. All this on top of his regular level 7 SHIELD duties. It’s a lot but Phil doesn’t mind. He’s good at taking care of people. 

Especially Clint Barton. 

And Clint’s inclined to let him. It’s not a hardship on his part –he loves Phil (he married the man, after all) and he loves to have Phil’s attention. But there are days where Phil is worn to the bone. No one said working for SHIELD was easy. 

So Clint loves it when he can steal Phil Coulson away from his job and his office and take his time taking care of his husband. 

Sometimes it’s easy to tell when he needs it; Phil will be the last agent off the jet and his eyes will be shadowed, his suit more than a little worn, with that little tick in his jaw that shows just how carefully he’s holding it together. Or a week of long mission reports and writing condolence letters after they lost someone –his knuckles white from his clenched hands, his eyes at a thousand yard stare. Or days when Fury himself calls Clint on his earpiece which doubles as a hearing aid while he’s down at the range –the arrow still poised and ready to fly. 

“Come pick up your handler, Barton. And I better not see either of your faces back here until Monday.” His voice crisp and leaving no room for argument. And who’s arguing? Coulson’s always looking after Clint –it’s his job to take care of Phil now. 

And sure, when they first started Phil was more than a little reluctant –he’d protested he was fine, totally fine, he just needed to get this report done or finish cleaning up after this shit-show of a mission or see to this one last thing-, but it didn’t take long for the protesting to stop. Just seeing Clint coming to take him home –it’s too good to pass up. And it’s not like it happens too often –just on the worst days or weeks when Phil really needs it.

Clint watches Phil’s shoulders tighten like he’s bracing himself for more responsibilities as Clint comes in the office door but once he realizes its Barton those stiff shoulders sag. Like it’s finally safe for him to drop. To be Phil and be tired and worn to the bone. And he is. 

It hurts Clint a little to see his husband has gotten to this point but he knows it’s the job. There have been so many times he’s come home from a mission where he’s just holding on, nerves frayed and muscles locked to keep him up. It’s just the job. 

But here he is, in Phil’s office, face soft and open. 

“Let’s go home, Phil.” And Coulson knows that arguing isn’t really what he wants. That whatever he’s been doing will keep. 

Sometimes Clint will take his cues from his husband on what he needs or what he wants (food first? Or a shower? Or maybe painkillers for his headaches?) Other times Phil just can’t make any more choices –not today –he needs someone to call the shots for him. 

They’re back at the tower and up to their rooms within the hour. Clint puts a couple Tylenol in his husband’s hand and hands him a nice cold glass or Gatorade because he knows Phil needs the electrolytes after not eating properly all day. Barton makes sure to keep his voice quiet and a warm hand at the small of Phil’s back, dimming the lights in their rooms and turning off their phones. Phil is all his for the next three days (which is exactly how long he’ll consent to sitting still without working outside of a medical order). 

Today is one of those days that calls for a nice hot shower, and normally Clint loves stripping Phil –who is he fooling, he always does –but right now isn’t about sexy stuff (Phil is always sexy, that’s not really up for debate with Clint –ever) it’s about getting the man to unwind. And yeah, Clint knows he’s sort of rambling but Phil naked does that to him –sue him. 

He’s made a few detours to grab a few essentials for later but now the hot shower is running and Phil accepts his help getting in. The steamy water making him sigh.

“I’m gonna start dinner while you wash up –unless you want me to help you?” Clint’s voice is quiet and Phil shakes his head. It’s a non-verbal day it seems and those are the worst for Phil. His head must be pounding, his shoulders cramped tight and he just cannot do anything more. The less talking he has to process the better. No TV for him tonight, the light from the screen and the chatter will be too much. 

With that scratched off the list, Clint leaves Phil alone in the shower and scrounges the kitchen as quietly as a trained assassin can to put something together. Nothing overly fancy but something filling. There’s some old takeout in the fridge but he wants something fresh, so Clint grabs a box of pancake mix and cuts up a banana and some strawberries before tossing dark chocolate chips into the batter. 

A peanut butter smoothie will be good for protein and he makes sure the pancakes are covered and the stove is off before going to check on Phil.

The water’s not running cold yet but Coulson looks more than dead on his feet. Clint doesn’t bother with words because he bets that processing them might still be a bit much. The air in the bathroom is muggy and the mirror about the sink is fogged up as Clint pulls his husband out into a nice fluffy towel. 

Clint makes sure Phil’s seated on the closed toilet seat before pointing out the door and towards their bedroom and following it with a thumbs up which Phil copies. Thumbs up for yes, thumbs down for no. Simple. 

He’s back quickly with Phil’s favorite fluffy pajama pants and a fated deep blue t-shirt with Captain America’s shield printed on it. Clint’s thinking of giving a massage later but he doesn’t want Phil to lose that heat he’s gotten from the shower –his skin still tinged pink. Food will be next and then he’ll see how Phil’s doing before pushing for that back rub. 

Pancakes are still hot, peanut butter smoothie poured, fruit cut up in a bowl. Perfect. Clint’s pulling Phil into their bedroom and decided to feed him himself. Forget kitchen chairs and cutlery. Not today. 

He makes sure Coulson’s propped up against the headboard with some pillows, setting the tray on the bed and asking JARVIS to play some white noise. The sound of soft rain fills the cracks that silence made and gives Phil something to focus on as the pain meds start to work their magic. 

The pancakes have a little syrup on them but not too much to make them overly sweet. Clint’s tearing off small pieces and offering them up to Phil who takes them gently, licking smears of slightly bitter chocolate from Clint’s fingers. 

Barton smiles as Phil sucks some of the syrup off his skin, trying to tell his body that no, this isn’t headed in the direction it thinks this is –not right now. Still, he can’t help reaching out an unoccupied hand to cup Phil’s jaw (Phil who leans into his warm touch), pausing to kiss him and taste the bitter sweetness on his lips. 

The smoothie is offered and some fruit and Clint has a few bites for himself at Phil’s pointed insistence. Still no words yet but there’s no rush. It takes them a while to get through the food because Clint insists on taking it nice and slow –no need to hurry and make Phil feel sick. But already he’s noticing Phil’s starting to steady a little –his body accepting the sugars and bringing him up out of that blood sugar crash. 

He lets Coulson just rest a bit after; head back against the pillows at the headboard. Clint weighs his choices and decides to give it a try –Phil can veto anything anytime with a thumbs down. 

Phil can smell the lightly scented peppermint massage oil as Clint pops the cap and warms some in his hands. He hasn’t vetoed it with a thumbs down yet so Clint starts on his bare feet. 

His husband moans at Clint’s strong hands pressing against the balls of his feet, the arch and heel. He’s starting to move to get his shirt off in anticipation of the rest of the massage, but Clint stills him. He wants to take his time on Phil’s sore feet. They’re not rushing. 

The whimper he gets from his husband as he moves to his ankles is reinforcing and Clint makes sure to place a quick kiss on Phil’s toes before moving on. Wiping off some of the excess oil from Phil’s feet, he starts to slowly get Coulson’s t-shirt off. Phil’s already moving himself onto his front –he wants Clint’s hands –those wonderfully calloused hands –on his back and shoulders. He wants the heel of Clint’s hand to dig into the tightened muscles of his upper back and he knows Clint will take care of him. He knows. 

The oil scent is light and not overpowering, the taste of chocolate and peanut butter still on his tongue, the warmth of his husband’s hands pressing into his back has Phil unwinding. He can still smell Clint as he leans over him, digging into deeply knotted muscles and it’s even more relaxing than the peppermint. Clint’s here. It’s okay. 

He flashes a thumbs up –a solid ‘yes’ and ‘keep going’ and ‘more please’ and ‘I’m good’. 

Clint had already figured from the deep groans that seem to come from the very bottom of Phil’s chest, rumbling out of him like distant thunder, but it’s important to have solid affirmation that he’s doing good. Communication is even more important when Phil goes non-verbal like this.

Clint’s about done with the back rub but having his hands on all this skin –with those noises Phil’s making –it’s hard to give up. But he needs to detour and get to Phil’s arms and hands. 

The archer quickly cleans up the extra oil from Phil’s back and starts on his arms, letting Phil move back to his front. Clint’s mindful that the sudden loss of deep pressure from his back rub might leave Phil feeling like he’s free falling. So he nabs he weighted blanket from their closet before tucking it around Phil’s torso and legs just to help keep him grounded, just like on bad days where Phil practically pulls Clint on top of him. 

“I’m not gonna be too heavy?” he’d wondered. 

“No,” Phil had assured, “Need it. Need you here. It makes me feel like I’m here too.” 

“You’re here, Phil. You’re here and so am I.” Clint takes the time to whisper now and Phil gives him a thumbs up. 

“Yeah. Here.” He mumbles. It’s the most Clint’s gotten out of him but it’s good. 

Phil’s arms aren’t as built as Clint’s but they’re not unimpressive –he does work out and is an active agent of SHIELD. Most people would be surprised at how much strength Phil hides under those suits of his. Clint’s just as happy to have his hands on his husband’s arms as he is his back, but it’s his hands he really wants to get to today. Those thick fingers can get cramped and Phil’s knuckles get sore. 

Before touching them with the oil, Clint kisses each fingertip, the warm space of Phil’s palm and then his wrist. He feels Phil’s precious pulse humming along under the point of contact and Clint smiles. They’re here. Both of them. And isn’t that a fucking miracle all on its own?

Clint’s finishing up the massage, taking his time with each finger and wiping up the oil before placing a quick kiss on Phil’s brow and getting him back into his shirt. Sometimes these massages end in something more sexy and sweaty and loud –and Clint’s pretty sure Phil wouldn’t necessarily argue, his partial erection isn’t arguing either, but it’s all about what Phil really needs right now. As it is, Phil looks like he’s inches from passing out so maybe they can revisit this later when he’s ready to be worn out all over again for far better reasons than the weight of the world he seems to carry on those broad shoulders. 

Phil’s blinking blearily up at him shifts Clint’s attention back. 

“Sleep with me.” He says. His first sentence. Clint wants to joke ‘oh babe, you only have to ask’. But he is asking and Clint knows he means in the literal sense. So he nods –just because Phil’s got some words back doesn’t mean he’s ready for a lot of chatter. 

Clint’t got himself in bed next to his husband, already anticipating Phil cuddling up so that he’s lying over Clint’s chest, head tucked in the crook of Clint’s shoulder. 

Barton pulls some pillows up to shore up against Phil’s back so he feels surrounded and not exposed. The weighted blanket is back, tucked up around Phil so he’s pressed in nice and warm and tight against his husband. 

One of Clint’s hands comes to brush lightly through Phil’s hair and he drops a kiss to Coulson’s forehead.  
“Don’t see what anyone sees in anyone else but you.” Phil murmurs into Clint’s collarbone and it makes Clint melt a little. Long before SHIELD he’d given up on anyone seeing anything in him. But Phil does –somehow. 

He’s still learning that part. 

And maybe Clint’s still working on understanding just what it is that Phil sees but for now he trusts Phil –like he trusts a bow in his hands –to see something worthwhile. 

He’s got time. They both do. 

Phil’s fast asleep now –little breaths warm against Clint’s chest. Clint lays back against the pillows in the still room. The soft sound of rain still playing, the smell of peppermint and Phil, to the taste of chocolate chip pancakes and bananas –his heart and arms full. 

“I don’t see what anyone sees in anyone else but you.” He echoes in a whisper.


End file.
